


Crashing Into You

by smallbeans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Hospitals, Hurt Stiles, M/M, POV Derek, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-23 15:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8332741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallbeans/pseuds/smallbeans
Summary: Derek hits Stiles with his car.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during my lunch break at college.
> 
> Enjoy :)

There will be a day that Derek will look back on this and laugh. Laugh at his stupidity, laugh at his cursed luck because only _he_ would manage to forget to stop at a zebra crossing and run someone over! - okay, maybe 'run someone over' was an exaggeration, but he damn well hit him while driving at 30 miles per hour, only breaking when he felt the impact of the guys legs hitting the bonnet and his head smacking against the metal before he was on the floor and Derek was panicking behind the wheel.

And he's still behind the wheel, heart pounding and white hands gripping the steering wheel so hard he can hear it groaning. He needs to get out of his car, to see the person he'd just hit, but he can't. He can't do it, he can't look at them and-

The guy is getting up. He's on weak legs, stumbling and through the car window, Derek can see blood.

"Oh my god!" The guy says. He's leaning against the bonnet of Derek's car, looking at it in shock.

Derek thinks it's a good time to get out now, and climbs out with his mind racking him for speeches of apology.

But he only manages to get a word out before he's cut off. "I-"

"I am so sorry!" The guy flailed his arms, his voice high pitched with panic and most likely pain. "I can't believe- I - your car! Is it okay? I- I'll pay for any damages. Oh, god! I hurt your car!"

Derek stood in shock as the guy ran his hands through his tousled brown hair. He wasn't sure how the guy was standing at the moment, although he was swaying slightly and there was a trail of blood running along his hairline and running down the side of his face.

"What- but I- I hit you with my car!"

"Dude," the guy flailed again, his arms waving around him like loose spaghetti. "It's an honour to be hit by a freaking Camaro! That thing must cost more than my apartment. And let me tell you, my apartment is nice!"

Derek shakes his head. This isn't happening. He didn't just hit a guy with his car, who jumped up and offered to pay for his repairs instead of lying on the floor dying or at least cursing that he got hit by a goddamn car!

"I-" he broke off and sighed. "Are you _okay?_ Do you need a hospital, or something?"

The guy took a deep breath. "Yeah," he breathed. The colour suddenly draining from his face. "I think I need to. . ." he trailed off, legs giving out underneath him and he dropped down beside the car. Derek dove forward, catching the boys head before it had time to ricoche off the concrete floor.

The boy looked up at him, eyes glassy and dazed. Derek tried not to look too closely at the brown swirls of his eyes, trying to pin point which specific colour they were. Whiskey? Hazel? Cinnamon? Derek demanded himself to stop focusing on the boys eyes, and instead of his health; the patch blood at his hairline had grown concerningly, as had the pallor of his skin, the two contrasting against eachother vibrantly.

"Wha c'lour are y'ur eyes?" The boy slurred beneath him.

Derek blinked. "What?"

"I can't decide if they're green, or brown. Maybe they're both?" The boy looked like he was completely zeroed on Derek's eyes.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Stiles," the boy murmured and for a moment, Derek was sure he heard him wrong.

"Stiles?" He repeated, and tried to contain his confusion and surprise when the kid nodded.

"Okay, _Stiles_ ,"Derek said, he kept one hand cradling the back of the boys head, and moving the other one to pull the boys body up into a sitting position.

"Nhg . . ." the boy groaned at the change in position. His head rolled out of Derek's hand, lolling against his shoulder. Derek tried to ignore the hot puffs of breath on his neck as he pulled the Stiles to his feet. He was swaying, knees weak beneath him as Derek guided him to the passenger side of his car.

"What's your's?" Stiles asked as they were driving. They weren't far from the hospital, and thankfully, Beacon Hills roads were always quiet on a Sunday night, so sitting in traffic wouldn't be a problem.

"What?" Derek looked at Stiles for the moment. The boy was curled up in the passenger seat, the uninjured side of his head resting against the headrest. The glow of the setting sun casted a yellow warmth into the car, showing the soft shadows from his long lashes that caressed his high cheekbones.

"What's your name?" Stiles repeated.

"Oh. Derek,"

"Hmm, Derek," Stiles said. "I like that."

Derek would have thought further into Stiles' comment, instead alarm bells were going off in his head at the sound of how slurred the words were that practically spilled out of the younger's mouth. Derek noticed the way the boys eyes were drooping, like he'd been washed with a wave of exhaustion, his skin a scary pallor. 

"Stiles," Derek said with urgency. "Stiles, you gotta stay awake. D'you hear me? Stiles!"

"'m 'wake," Stiles mumbled. His head lolled against the head rest, looking at Derek with half closed eyes. The dibble of blood had grown concerning-ly, the front of his hair slick wet.

"You l'k cute wh'n your scared," Stiles said, breaking out a wide, dopey grin. "Ac'ually, y're just cute in gen'ral."

"Okay," Derek says. He's almost certain this boy is just loopy now. He pulls into the car park of the hospital, parking slightly hazardly before he bolts out of the car, rounding the hood and pulling open the passenger door. Stiles practically falls out of the car as soon as the door is open, and he would have sprawled across the pavement if Derek hadn't caught him under the arm pits.

Dragging Stiles inside, Derek wondered if bringing him to the ER was a mistake, considering concussion wasn't always top of the emergency priority list, but thankfully, the ER was quiet.

Derek opened his mouth, about to call to the woman at the front desk, but he was cut off when she looked up and gaped.

"Stiles?" She said, running over quickly.

"What-?" Derek began, but Stiles cut him off.

"Melissa!" He yelled, grinning drunkenly. He was slumped into Derek's side, the arm around his shoulders slipping off.

"Jesus, what have you been doing?" Melissa muttered as she cupped his cheeks. Her eyes were drawn into the sticky red patch at his hair line. She breathed harshly through her nose, jaw clenched shut before she looked to Derek, "help me get him on to a stretcher."

Derek didn't hesitate, nodding before he scooped Stiles up and carried him over to the stretcher by the desk. The boy in his arms giggled, but it was as if he'd been wrapped with blankets of exhaustion as all he did was slump boneless against his chest.

Melissa stood at the laying boys side, whiping a small torch out of her pocket before she shined it into Stiles' eyes.

"You've got a concussion," she confirmed with a heavy sigh. "How'd it happen?"

"I hit his car," Stiles said, and as soon as Melissa glared at Derek, he realised how wrong that had sounded. Stiles had made it sound like Derek had freaking beaten him up!

"I didn't-"

Derek was once again cut off.

"He didn't hit me, Mel. I ran in front of his car and-"

"Jesus, Stiles," Melissa heaved a sigh. She shook her head before brushing the strands of Stiles' fringe of his forehead. "I don't think it needs stitches, but we're going to have to keep you over night to monitor it. How about we get you set up in a room and I'll call your dad?"

"I'd rather you didn't phone my dad," Stiles responded without a beat.

Melissa smiled. "You should have thought about that before you ran in front of a moving car."

*

Derek was surprised when Melissa allowed him to stay with Stiles, though the boy is as loopy as a rollercoaster. Melissa had given him some painkiller after he'd moaned about his head hurting, but they only made him drowsy and Stiles seemed to be refusing sleep.

"If I got to sleep, you might not be here when I wake up," Stiles had confessed with a pout which Derek sound truly adorable.

"I'll be here." Derek said, grabbing the boys slender hand and squeezing. The feel of Stiles' hand in his felt like a missing piece to a puzzle, the pair fitting into each other perfectly.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Stiles," Derek said. He smiled, something warm spreading in his chest.

"You should buy me dinner too." Stiles said, and Derek chuckled.

"Maybe when you get out of here."


End file.
